


We Should Quit, but We Love It Too Much

by sgteam14283



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Gen, Spies & Secret Agents, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21978055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgteam14283/pseuds/sgteam14283
Summary: Clint and Natasha had been spies for a long time. Didn't make it any less exciting.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6
Collections: be_compromised Secret Santa Exchange 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperairplanesopenwindows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperairplanesopenwindows/gifts).



> This was written for this years be_compromised Secret Santa's exchange! The prompt that I gravitated towards the most was to pick any AU, the more obscure the better. Last year I discovered the Riyria Chronicles/Revelations by Michael J. Sullivan and have just devoured the books. It's a fantasy series where the two main characters hate each other at the start but become begrudging friends over time, dragons, conspiracies, and witty banter with plenty of action. 
> 
> This takes place after _Nyphron Rising_ but there aren't any main plot spoilers for the book. 
> 
> Also a few quick notes: 
> 
> Maribor= God of Man
> 
> Novron= Son of Maribor, a demigod.
> 
> Nyphron Church= a version of the Catholic Church. Main teaching is that the offspring of Novron will return one day to rule the World of Man again.

He’d been riding for hours and his horse was more than tired, but he couldn’t stop.

Not when she was counting on him.

Traveling through the rain was always treacherous; it washed out the roads and could make seeing ahead almost impossible.

But he had to deliver the dispatches to Sir Breckton so the Empress’s army could continue its press against the Nationalist Army and that upstart Degan Gaunt. 

“ _If this goes well maybe I’ll be able to meet the Empress._ ” the messenger thought, splashing through puddles as he thought about the Daughter of Novron who managed to slay the dragon and reveal herself to the Nyphron Church.

Rounding a bend, he spotted a roadblock and two figures guarding it. Easing his horse into a trot he stayed alert, not recalling a checkpoint being set up on this route.

“ _Between the Nationalists and the Royalist army from Melengar there are plenty who would take advantage of the chaos for their own gain._ ”

Clint Barton heard hoofbeats and looked to see a courier approach, the unmistakable heraldry of the New Empire embroidered on his jacket. Raising a hand, he hoped the courier would heed the checkpoint that was set up.

Fortunately he did.

“Watchword?” Clint asked, hand on the hilt of his sword and ignoring the rain pelting his face as he looked up at the rider. 

“Watchword? I wasn’t _given_ a watchword. No one said there’d be a checkpoint along here.”

“Can’t be too careful, not with the war against those upstarts in the south and the bloody royalists about. And if you don’t know the password then how do I know you’re really a courier for the Empress?” 

“Don’t you see the emblem here?” the courier snapped, knowing that every second he delayed meant that Breckton wouldn’t know where Degan Gaunt was heading next. And that meant the Nationalists might have enough of a head start to spring an ambush on the Empress's loyal subjects. “I need to get through, it’s urgent.”

“It’s always urgent.” Clint said while straightening up and not moving a muscle. “You try and stand here for hours, knowing this road is the quickest between Aquesta and the front; not being able to even take a break ‘cause you pissed off some noble enough to land here.”

Folding his arms he continued, “So if you don’t have the watchword then you need to prove that you’re actually a courier for Empress Modina.”

“Oh for Maribor’s sake…” the man sighed while slumping slightly. “ _Fine._ ” 

Climbing down from the saddle, he took off his gloves before going into the saddlebag and pulling out an oiled cloth wrapped over parchment. Untying the string, he pulled enough of the cloth to show the bright red seal of the Regents. As he moved he was aware of the second person starting to circle his horse, presumably to see if he was smuggling anything. 

Focusing on the guard in front of him, he straightened. “Collected the orders from Regent Saldur myself.”

“Good.” Clint said before drawing his sword. “I’d hate to kill the wrong person.”

“What?” the messenger shouted, confused as to what was going on. Drawing his own sword, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. But before he could move, a blade sank into his side and he let out a gasp while losing his footing. 

Falling into the mud, his vision blurred as he heard a distinct female voice, “We got the message, let’s clean up this brush and take his horse. You can ride him and I'll take Lucky.”

Clint looked at his partner, Natasha Romanov, and shook his head. “No way, this is a thoroughbred-I’ll stick out like a sore thumb on it.”

“Then _I’ll_ ride it into Medford and sell it. We can get good coin for the horse. Maybe get some new cloaks before winter.” Natasha said, taking the reigns and starting to pull the horse off the road. The horse let out a snort and she paused, looking at the animal. Her features softened as she saw how heavy it was breathing. 

“Poor guy.” she murmured, gently stroking the side of the horse’s neck. “He’s been working you hard, but it’s a short ride to Medford and I’ll find a little girl to dote on you.”

Clint rolled his eyes at the words but didn’t say anything. In the years that they’d worked together Natasha always seemed to attract strays and have a way with animals. But then again he’d named his own horse Lucky after it had saved his life so he shouldn’t say anything.

Trudging through the mud towards the makeshift check point they’d set up, he ignored the crack of thunder that sounded across the sky and the downpour that started a minute later.

“Did Fury say why he wanted us to intercept the message?” Natasha asked once they were one their way; her on the Imperial messenger’s horse and Clint on Lucky. The rain was still coming down and she was starting to wonder if someone had cast a spell on the skies to continually rain.

“No. Only to head to Medford after we got it. You know how he likes to play things close.”

\--

As the capital of Melengar, Medford was always busy. Artisans, tradesmen, farmers, and nobles all streamed in and out of the city gates to conduct business or head to the castle for whatever reason. Even with the war on, people were still going about their normal business because commerce didn't stop for anything; even the threat of invasion.

Maria had shown up halfway to the capital, Nick’s second-in-command telling them that a meeting to handoff the message had been arranged in the lower quarter and gave them the codeword. Out of the way of prying eyes of the nobles and artisans, everyone would be too tired from a hard day’s work to pay attention to a small group in the shadows. 

Clint and Natasha arrived shortly before the noon bell rang from the Cathedral, finally escaping the rain an hour before they crossed into Gentry Square. Natasha went off to sell the Imperial horse while Clint went towards the Tradesman Arch and into the Lower Quarter. The handoff was set for an hour before dark and he wanted to get into his perch well before than.

“ _And the noise of the shops and taverns will cover anything that might happen._ ” Clint thought as he watched Natasha head deeper into Gentry Square.

Hitching Lucky to a post on the edge of the quarter, Clint walked through the mud road to where the meet was going to take place. After making sure that no one was watching, he slipped behind a ferrier’s and quickly scaled a tree. Leaping from a branch onto the roof Clint paused briefly to see if anyone had noticed, but the ringing of metal drowned out everything. Taking note of the surrounding area, Clint adjusted his quiver and bow so he could sit without either digging into his back. 

“ _Now to just wait until dark._ ” he thought while pulling his cloak tighter around himself.


	2. Chapter 2

The air had a distinctive chill and Natasha was glad for the cloak as she walked through the sea of mud. Spotting movement on the rooftop she wasn’t worried, knowing Clint had gotten into position hours ago. “ _He does like his vantage points._ ”

Hearing boisterous voices, Natasha saw light from the tavern spill out onto the street and the idea of a hot meal and maybe some good ale after being on the road for so long sounded like her idea of paradise.

The sound of pebbles hitting the ground drew Natasha out of her thoughts and looked to see two dark figures approaching. The shadows were lengthening as the sun set and that was both a blessing and a curse, it made it hard to see but they could use the dim light to escape easily if needed.

“Give us the message.” one of them demanded, the shadows obscuring a good portion of his face.

“What message? I’m just working girl.” Natasha said, placing a hand on her hip and gave the pair an alluring smile. She didn’t like how things were shaping up. “If your price is right though I can give you whatever message you want.”

“If you’re a working girl then I’m the Son of Novron.” the second man said while continuing to advance towards Natasha. “We know this area, there aren’t any other girls ‘cept the ones at Medford House.”

“Maybe I’m new in town.” Natasha stated as the men circled her, keeping up her easy air but tracking their movements with her eyes.

The first man that spoke grabbed her hair and pulled her face close to his. “We know you and your partner somehow got the message bound for Breckton. We’ll do whatever it takes to get it. So hand it over and maybe you’ll survive with only a little maiming.”

_Thwip._

The sound of an arrow flying through the air and into the back of the man made Natasha relax. As the man’s grip on her loosened and he fell into the mud, she could make out the outline of Clint up on the roof, bow in hand and reaching for another arrow.

“Behind!” Clint shouted at he spotted the second man drawing his sword and heading towards Natasha. 

Clint quickly pulled another arrow from his quiver and aimed, exhaling before letting go. The arrow sailed towards its mark but at the last second the man was tackled to the ground by Natasha and the arrow landed in the ground with a wet thump. Then he noticed more men advancing towards them.

“Widow, they brought friends!” Clint shouted as he prepared to jump down.

“Thanks Hawk.” Natasha replied while pulling out her short sword and turning to fully face the advancing group. She heard Clint land on the ground and take his place next to her, bow already drawn and aimed towards the advancing men. “We’ve faced worse odds.”

“Two against five? We can handle them.” Clint fired off two arrows before they could get any closer. 

Two went down and the other’s hesitated long enough for Clint to pull out his sword and run towards them. Clashing steel against steel, he got lost in the familiar movements of fighting. He was an expert with a bow and sword, fighting as a mercenary for years before getting recruited by Fury.

He parried and then gave a shove to the man’s torso with his foot, sending his opponent to the ground. That problem taken care of for the moment, Clint turned to see another sword headed for his side. Stepping quickly, Clint shifted so the sword barely skimmed by; feeling the movement of air against his clothing. 

Moving his sword, Clint brought it around and aimed for his opponent’s side. But then his foot slipped in the mud and he went down face-first. Laughter rang around him and a boot landed on his back, pressing down on his spine. 

Natasha would have gone over to help Clint but she had her hands full dodging the attacks of the other men. Slashing at the arm of one of the men, she managed to rip his sleeve and even draw blood.

“That was new.” the man growled, lunging for Natasha. But he didn’t even get halfway before he paused, staggering a few steps before collapsing into the middle of the road.

Natasha looked down and saw the glint of a white bladed dagger. “ _Where do I know that dagger?_ ” she thought while looking for the mysterious assailant. 

Then she saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye and turned to see it running towards her.

“Three against two? That’s just unfair.” 

Clint heard the voice and it triggered something in his mind, but it had been so long ago that he couldn’t place it. The boot on his back stilled and then lifted. He raised his head to see a man with a sword in each hand and a giant spadone on his back not far from where he was. 

Seeing that his assailant was preoccupied, Clint grabbed the man’s ankle with his hand and gave it a yank. The man went down with a shout and Clint scrambled up, grabbing his sword as he did. Not pausing, he thrust down and into the man’s stomach; seeing the man with three swords in front of him as he freed his own.

“Widow, go!” Clint yelled as he swung his sword towards the taller man. It was blocked easily but he was determined to give Natasha as much of a head start as he could.

“Hawk, wait-”

“Go!”

“Hey! We’re on your side.” the man with three swords said, waving his sword in front of him- Clint knew the move to warn him away more than to actually hurt him but he didn’t waver. 

“No one carries three swords unless he’s going to use them.” Clint replied, lunging forwards with his right foot and swinging his sword in an upward arc. The ringing sound of steel reached his ears as the new stranger swung his as well and blocked Clint’s well away from his body.

Clint didn’t hesitate, quickly flicking his blade in a move designed to set the other man off balance. He pivoted around behind the taller man, trying to trip him up. But the other man matched his moves, moving around and swinging a leg, catching Clint behind the knees to send him to the mud once again.

Twisting to land on his back, Clint heard the man say, “We were sent by King Alric to get a message about the Nationalists.” 

“Oh the _King_?” Clint sneered as he got back up. He was covered in what he hoped was just mud but refused to concede the fight. “I highly doubt he sends mercenaries to do his work.”

Stepping towards his opponent again Clint struck at him in a fast set of sweeping attacks, most which never caught anything but air as the taller man avoided them. Moving in a flurry, his blade traveled faster and faster. Steel ringing filled his ears as they caught the others blows with their blades, parrying them aside.

Clint felt the sweat drip down his back but ignored it, relishing the challenge that this man was giving him. He then executed a brilliant maneuver; feinting left, he swung right while following through on the stroke and spinning fully around, exposing his back.

The elation of finally being able to use that trick the Swordsman had taught him soon fell away as Clint felt something heavy crash into him and he stumbled forwards. Feet losing their grip he slid into the mud for a third time. 

“Will you stay down this time or do I have to sit on you?” Clint heard through the mud in his ear. There was a beat and then Clint raised his head, a mud-caked boot in his field of vision.

Not saying anything, Clint raised himself to his knees and planted his sword in the ground to help him stand.

“For Mar’s sake-”

“Clint!” 

Clint paused at Natasha using his actual name and not his alias. Turning around, he saw that she was standing next to a hooded figure. 

“Nat?” he asked hesitantly, not sure what was going on.

“It’s okay. These really are the messengers we’re supposed to meet.”

“They don’t-”

“I know, we don’t look like the type. Hell, even _I_ hardly believe it and we’ve been doing this for a long time. But Alric did send us. Said you work for a man named Fury and that the code was...shit what was it Royce?” Clint heard the man next to him say.

“Really, Hadrian? You don’t remember what we’re supposed to say?” Royce said, scowling from beneath his hood. “It’s ‘Crown Conspiracy.’ You know, the play that's about ten percent accurate in terms of what really happened.”

Clint relaxed his body at hearing the codeword, letting the tension leave his shoulders before sheathing his sword. “Sorry about that. Right before you there were some men who thought they could just take the letters.”

“We saw. And no offense taken, well at least not from me.” Hadrian said as he sheathed his sword as well. “I don’t know about Royce.”

“I’m just glad that I recognized Duster’s dagger before we really got into it.” Natasha replied as she pulled out the letter from inside her dress. “And that he recognized me as well.”

“The red hair’s new, Queen.” Royce replied, taking the letters and examining them to double check that they were the real things and not forgeries. “Or I guess it’s Widow now.”

Clint raised an eyebrow at the exchange, the codenames connecting with what Natasha had told him of her past with the Black Diamond gang in Rhenydd. 

“ _That’s_ Duster?” he asked as both Natasha and Royce came closer. 

Natasha nodded, “He saved my skin more than once while we were both with the thieves guild.”

“And here I thought you didn’t work with anyone.” Hadrian was fighting a smile at Royce’s frown reappearing at the rib.

“Not after Queen left.” Royce grouced, glaring at Hadrian who continued to smile. “Let’s go. Alric is expecting us back at the castle.”

Hadrian let Royce start down the street, giving Clint and Natasha a nod before turning and making his own way back towards the castle. 

“Wait!” Clint took a half step towards them, suddenly realizing where he’d seen Hadrian before. “You’re Hadrian Blackwater from Gravin River Ford. You almost single handedly held that line against the attacking force.”

Hadrian paused at the call, turning when Clint mentioned one of the many times he’d sold his fighting skills as a mercenary. “I’m guessing you were there as well.”

“On the other side, although I managed to graze you with an arrow.”

“That was you?” Hadrian asked, tilting his head at the memory of the archer that never missed and had almost gotten him. “I don’t know if I should punch you or thank you for making me shift Elthelred’s men to the ford so you couldn’t hit them.”

“You can debate that over a pint at the Rose and Thorn later.” Royce butted in, narrowing his eyes at Hadrian’s response. The man hardly talked about his time as a mercenary but seemed more willingly to talk with Clint about it than his own partner. “We have a message to deliver, Blackwater. Incase you forgot.”

“Right. Meet you at the Rose and Thorn then.” Hadrian waited for Clint’s nod before turning and striding after Royce.

“Well that was interesting.” Natasha replied as she turned towards Clint and tried not to laugh at how he was completely covered in mud. “You’re filthy. They’re not going to let you in the tavern until you get hosed down.”

“Then let’s find the pump. I feel like a mud creature from a children’s tale.” Clint muttered while trudging towards the Rose and Thorn tavern, glad that that particular mission was done with. “I’m more than ready to go back to Stark’s manor after this. Maybe Nick will let us stay there for a few weeks, I’m tired of hardtack and bumpy roads.”

“If this thing with the Nationalists doesn’t gather heat like it feels it’s going to.”

\--  
The Rose and Thorn Tavern was bustling, everyone coming in from a hard day’s work to enjoy a brew and relax for a few hours. Mentioning Blackwater’s name to the barmaid got them a table off to the side, by the fireplace where it seemed the usuals congregated.

Clint felt the heat already starting to dry the cold water from the pump they’d found just down the road. 

“How long this time?” Natasha asked after their mugs of ale got delivered and she took a drink. The cold liquid felt good after their fight in the streets while the heat from the fire dried their cloaks and clothes.

“Three, four months? It’s hard to tell with all the traveling.”

“That’s our longest yet. This war between the Imps and Royalists is dragging on longer than anyone first thought.”

Clint nodded, opening his mouth at the same time the bowls of thick stew appeared. Waiting until they were alone again he said, “King Alric refusing to join the New Empire and splitting up the Imps forces was a lucky break. Did you hear who’s leading them?”

Natasha shook her head before leaning back and setting her feet on the unused portion of the table, “Breckton’s making a name for himself. I’m sure the fact that his family are well known fighters helps.”

Laughter rang out across the tavern and Clint flicked his eyes towards the noise, seeing that it was a group enjoying the punchline to a joke. As it died down he asked, “You ever get tired of it?”

“What do you mean?”

“The constant traveling, fighting, not knowing the whole plan because Fury is a man of few words. Sometimes I just want to cash in my markers with him and leave Stark’s estate. Head somewhere where they’ve never heard of the Hawk and Widow.”

“Sometimes. But then there are days like this where we do some actual good and get reminded why we’re doing this in the first place. Where I can wipe off some of the red on my ledger.” Natasha said in an even tone, knowing that lately Clint had been restless and could see why. “Besides, you love not knowing what the next day’s going to bring.”

Clint fought the smile that threatened to escape, “You’re right.”

Holding out his mug he continued, "To long trips on the road, fighting, and trying to beat the Imps."

Natasha sat up while holding out her own, “To beating the Imps.”


End file.
